


When The World Is Ending, Does It Matter What We Say?

by secondalto



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Apocalypse, Bloodplay, Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-02
Updated: 2010-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondalto/pseuds/secondalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the apocalypse looming, Angel has some things to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The World Is Ending, Does It Matter What We Say?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the eighth round at [](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/rounds_of_kink/) . Prompt: "I guess it's never a good day for the end of the world", kink: blood and declarations of love, prompter [](http://ladydey.livejournal.com/profile)[**ladydey**](http://ladydey.livejournal.com/) .

The sun slipped below the horizon, painting the sky with reds and purples. Yellow and orange also made an appearance, as if haphazardly brushed across the horizon. It seemed fitting that such beauty preceded the horror that would be the apocalypse. The bright lights of the city below began to show as darkness filtered in. Wesley sighed; it was a reminder of where he was. The wind played through his hair and he remembered his first sunset. His first night in his new apartment and he’d looking forward to the prospect of watching the sun depart for the day. Being a Watcher hadn’t really allowed for indulgences such as sunsets or sunrises. All he could see from the tiny living room window was the wall of the building next door and a dark alley. He’d been forced to go to the roof. He clearly remembered the feeling of wonder and awe at the beauty of it amongst such…modernity. Five years later he was hardened, jaded, but the awe still lingered.

 He looked out over the city, Los Angeles, the city of angels or more precisely, the city of Angel. Now that the sun had set, his lover would be appearing any moment now. Angel had asked Wesley to meet him here, but had not said why. Wesley remembered every detail of the incident that had led to their becoming lovers. He’d been undoubtedly drunk, getting maudlin about love in general.  Angel had been in his chair, Wesley on his desk imbibing freely. He’d been gesturing wildly to emphasize some point or another and had overbalanced. Angel had grabbed for him. Wesley had ended up in his lap. They’d stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. One of them had leaned forward. Lips met gently at first, a tentative exploration. Then it had turned passionate and hot, Wesley squirming in Angel’s lap. But Angel had been the responsible one, stopping the action. Wesley awoke in his apartment the next day barely remembering how he’d arrived there. But the kiss was seared into his memory.

Their relationship wasn’t what one would call a love match. They were by no means soul mates or any of that romantic twaddle. They just--were. Yes, Angel had his soft side; Wesley couldn’t deny that seeing him with young Connor. The boy had brought out tenderness in Angel that astounded everyone who knew him. Wesley almost envied their relationship. And yes, they too had their tender moments, most often after one or both of them were hurt. But they also had their fights, their major blowouts, and the rough sex. Arguments over some minor point of demonology or strategy lead to shouting and rising passions then sex. Sometimes the bruises and scratches came from their coupling rather than the fights with demons. Wesley could point to each scar he’d gotten from Angel he thought with a wry grin.

In fact he could feel the fading bruises on his hips from the encounter they’d had after Angel’s revelation about the Black Thorn. He’d also argued strenuously that it was impossible for his lover to sign the Shanshu away, prophecies didn’t work like that. It didn’t matter. Here they were, days away from the end of the world. There would be no happy ending for him, Wesley knew deep down that facing Vail would mean his death. But he would do it because Angel asked it of him.

“Was it as beautiful as I remember it?”

“Yes,” Wes said, not turning just yet to face his lover.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

“I am curious yes. My more recent memories of this place are not pleasant.” He was referring to killing the machine that had bore his father’s face.

“Sorry, but I thought you needed to see the sunset.”

Wesley finally turned. Angel was standing near the doorway, hands restless as he stared at the ground. He was worried, anxious about something. “Angel?”

“It’s Vail, Wes. I just can’t--you’re the best person to face him, but not without protection.”

“He’d spot a spell in a second, I can’t possibly guard myself magically and weapons would be useless. I’m sure I’ll be searched when I enter his house.”

Angel finally looked at him. He looked--vulnerable, his face more open that Wes had ever seen it. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” He reached inside his coat and pulled something out, thrusting it towards Wes.

Wesley swallowed. “Is that…? I thought all the Orbs of Thessula had been destroyed.”

“I, uh, called Willow. She was able to find me one.”

“Why…?” The answer clicked in his mind as he asked the question. “You want to turn me?”

“The apocalypse is in a few days, Wes.”

“It’s never a good day for the end of the world, Angel, but this?”

Angel stepped closer, tucking the Orb back into his coat. “It’s the only way, Wes. I can’t think about going into this battle without you,” he choked out. “Willow gave me the revised version of the spell, your soul would be permanent, like mine. No happiness clause, no losing it if the Orb’s destroyed. I need you, Wes.”

The last part was practically whispered. Angel had confessed more in that speech than he had in two years of being together. It wasn’t enough. Wesley needed more to convince to against everything that he had been trained to think was bad. Angel, and yes Spike, were the exceptions to the rule of evil vampires. Despite his feelings it had taken more than just a drunken kiss for Wes to enter Angel’s bed. His father would have disowned him again if he’d known. He’d warred with himself for days before he’d submitted to his lusts.

He did so again now. It was every Watcher’s nightmare. That he or his Slayer or both be turned. It had happened to a few; they were eventually hunted and killed. To submit to being turned voluntarily? It was unthinkable. Angel said he wanted to do it to ensure Wes’ safety. He doubted that he was that essential to the final battle. What was his meager sorcery against the powers of the Senior Partners? There was something else in Angel’s voice that suggested another motive. Wesley closed his eyes, taking in a breath. The logic behind the request was sound, but the emotion…Wesley needed to hear the words from his lover before he acquiesced, before he betrayed everything he’s been trained to fight against, before he gave into one of the biggest taboos for a Watcher. It seemed almost ironic that all it would take for him to give in, to willingly embrace death, were three words.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

‘You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Dammit, Wes!”

“Angel, please.”

“I love you. So help me God, I love you, Wesley.”

Wesley opened his eyes, letting out the breath he’d been holding as he crossed the roof quickly, shoving Angel against the door as he kissed him, mouths clashing together hot and hard. “Why did it take until now for you to say it?”

“Wes, we don’t…it’s not us.”

Angel turned them, crushing Wesley into the stone wall as they molded to one another. Wes reached between their bodies to grab Angel’s crotch. “I..Angel, you know I….”

“Wes, I know,” Angel said, grinding up against his hand. With a groan he continued. “God, downstairs. I want to do this right.”

A handle scrambled to turn the knob, the door banging against the wall when it was finally hauled open. He was bumped into the walls, banged against the railing. Wes was sure he’d have more bruises, but if he was going to become a vampire, it wouldn’t matter. Several times he lost his footing, saved from a broken neck by Angel’s strong and quick hands.  It was a miracle they managed to get to the right floor in one piece. They stumbled through the penthouse doors, pulling and grabbing at clothes. Angel moved away for a moment, sliding his coat off and laying it on a nearby chair. Yes, must be careful of the Orb. Wes was on him again in a second.

He tugged at Angel’s shirt, fingers slipping off the buttons. They laughed nervously between kisses. The frantic pace that had brought them to this point was slowly fading. Skin flashed from under cloth as buttons opened and zippers came down. They held each other up as shoes and socks were toed off. Wes’ briefs inched slowly down his legs as Angels kissed his way across flesh. Wes mourned that he couldn’t reciprocate as Angel went without underwear. Naked by the time they reached the bedroom, Angel slowed things down to a snails pace. It was a necessary evil they were performing but Wes realized that this was going to be a slow, tender thing.

 Angel was touching him everywhere, tongue following fingers. Wes grew hot where Angel touched him, his skin aflame with desire. He clutched at the sheets, not daring to touch him yet. Every press of flesh against flesh, every caress of tongue drew him closer to a peak. His heart raced. He clutched at the thought that he should remember this feeling. “Angel, I need you,” he said raggedly, but he got no answer. No inch of skin was left untouched except for his cock. When Angel took that into his mouth, Wes was sure he’d explode. His hips bucked, his muscles tensed, then he felt the cool air assault him as Angel moved off. He wrenched his eyes open to see Angel sitting back, waiting. Wes’ body calmed a little, but his mind was whirling in anticipation.

Angel smirked as he leaned over Wesley to reach the nightstand and pull something out. Wesley had no time to think about what it was when Angel began touching him again. The banked fires of his desire began to burn again. All he registered was Angel’s touch, the heat of his skin against the cool sheets. The only sound was that of his own ragged breathing. Until the familiar click of the lubricant opening echoed through the room. There was the cool feel of it against his body as Angel continued to tease and torment him. He angled his hips but nothing resulted except the slow, sultry laugh of Angel. Slowly he felt the stretch and burn of fingers opening him. Wes tried to hold onto these feelings as his body and mind screamed for release.

“Angel, God, please, now, now.”

“Patience, Wes. We’re going to have forever soon.”

Any reply was lost as Angel removed his fingers. Wesley whimpered before he felt Angel begin to push into Wesley’s body. Wes struggled to keep his eyes open, focused on watching his lover strain to keep his composure. Canting his body forward only made Angel stop moving, leaving Wes more frustrated. He relaxed and Angel moved again. Once fully inside, Angel waited a moment, both of them staring at one another, before he bent to kiss Wesley. Then he felt the slow drag of Angel’s cock as he pulled out, Wes feeling the absence acutely. He pushed back in just as slowly. Wes’ hands gripped Angel’s forearms as he continued the languid back and forth.  Sweat beaded Wes’ forehead as his body was brought higher and higher, reaching peaks of pleasure he’d never known before. He wanted to move his body, bring his legs to wrap around his lover. But he knew if he did Angel would stop, wait until he calmed before beginning the delicious torture again.

“Angel….”

His lover wrapped a hand around his straining cock. He tugged on it gently. “Almost there, it’s going to be so good for you, Wes.”

He strained between the hand around his erection and the cock in his ass. He wanted both, now. Angel was not giving in. The familiar heat of an impending orgasm pooled at the base of his spine. Angel’s voice reached through the haze. “Open your eyes, Wes. Look at me.” He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Focusing on the voice, he watched as Angel’s face shifted, the beast inside coming forth. Wesley wasn’t afraid. He reached up to caress the ridged forehead, running a finger along a fang before letting his hand drop.

“It’s now, Wes. Let me hear you, let me see you.”

Angel changed the pace of their lovemaking, pounding into his body, whipping his hand over his cock. Wesley keened as his back arched, his body hurtling towards the inevitable. His vision began to white out when he felt the sting of fangs on his neck. Angel had bitten him before, drank from him, but this was different. It was both passionate and vicious. He could feel the blood being pulled from him. His heart slowed, his breathing became shallow, he was dying. Just before he was certain he was leaving this plane, he tasted copper on his lips, heard Angel’s voice again.

“Drink, Wes.”

He opened his mouth, lapped up the blood, caring less if some spilled onto the bed. He drank until the blood stopped coming. Then nothing but blackness.

                                                *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Instantly he was awake. Hungry. His eyes adjusted. Where ever he was, it was small. Wes reached out to feel. It was wood, a coffin. He was going to have to make his own wait out. He found himself unafraid.  Clawing and punching his way out, Wesley was aware of everything. As he drew closer to the surface, he could make out a voice. Angel’s voice. His master. He broke through the soil and something hit him, causing him to collapse onto the ground before he could stand.

An unnecessary breath was drawn before he looked up to see Angel standing there, the Orb in his hand. His soul was restored. The Orb was thrown to the pavement, splintering to uncountable pieces, but the soul stayed. Angel offered him a hand. He took it and was brought up, enveloped in a hug and pressed into a passionate kiss. Wesley could smell Angel’s relief and lingering fear, taste unrestrained joy and maybe a hint of blood. He could hear the sounds of the city, Angel’s city.

Angel broke away. “There’s really not much time for a reunion, Wes. Everyone’s getting nervous, the apocalypse isn’t far off. I brought you this to tide you over for the moment,” he handed Wes a large thermos, more than likely pigs blood, before starting to move off. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

“Of course,” Wesley answered reflexively, opening the thermos as he followed Angel. As he drank, he remembered something. The Master had been the oldest vampire that the Watcher’s had record of, yet no one knew precisely how old he was. Darla had been over four hundred. Angel had seen two and half centuries, but promised Wesley forever. He wasn’t sure he believed in forever, but he’d take whatever the future offered him as long as he was with Angel.

 


End file.
